


Hungry Heart

by phoenixflight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confessions, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21996103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: Dean walks in on Sam folded up on the bed trying to suck his own cock.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 125





	Hungry Heart

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for 2019 Twelve Days of Wincestmas. Enjoy!  
Ages unspecified, both boys are still in high school.  
Title from Bruce Springsteen, of course.

Dean shut the door to their rented double-wide behind him and dumped his backpack on the couch. School was a fucking waste of time. He’d stuck around for fifth period because his lab partner was smoking hot, but cut sixth. He could have some food made by the time Sammy got back from school, and they’d have more time to do the exercises dad had left for them before they lost light in the winter evening. 

His jeans were damp to the knee from walking home through the snow, so he toed off his wet boots and walked on sock feet back to the bedroom to change. 

When he opened the door, his heart leapt into his throat before his eyes could even process what he was seeing. Dean froze. 

Sam was naked on the bed, lying on his back with his hips propped up against the headboard, curled over so his knees were tucked down by his ears, bare toes flexing, hard cock clenched in his hand, the red tip inches from his mouth. Dean was just in time to see Sam’s dick jerk and begin to spill. 

Dean must have made some kind of noise, because Sam suddenly yelped and started flailing, but he was folded over too tightly to get up easily, and he just succeeded in getting come all over his face before flopping sideways off the bed like a hooked fish. When he sat up Dean had a moment to see his bright red cheeks with come streaked across them and across his lips and a pearly white drop clinging to his eyelashes before Dean slammed out of the room and down the hall into the bathroom. 

Turning on the sink he splashed icy water on his face, trying to ignore the fact that he was rock-hard in his jeans. 

By the time Sam finally slunk out of the bedroom, Dean was in the kitchen making mac n cheese, and blasting Poison on an ancient boom box he’d found at a yard sale a month ago and hadn’t had to leave behind yet. Sam was dressed in jeans and a huge sweatshirt that came almost down to his knees, and had his still-red face tilted down, bangs falling in his eyes. 

“You’re supposed to be at school,” Dean said sternly. 

That startled Sam into looking up. “I… you...  _ You're _ supposed to be at school!” he sputtered. “Did you cut class?” 

“Ah-ah.” Dean waved the spatula at him. “I asked first.” This was normal, they could do this. Arguing in the kitchen, ignoring the fact that Dean’s stomach still felt inside out. 

Sam ducked his head again and muttered something about gym class and Dean sighed heavily. “Sammy, I know gym is stupid and boring and embarrassing and we ran three miles this morning anyway but if you're absent all the time some social worker is going to look too close at us.”

“I know, Dean,” Sam groaned. “Fuck off. And don’t call me Sammy. I'm not twelve anymore.”

“No, but you're still short,” Dean said with false cheerfulness. “You want broccoli or spinach in your mac?” Dean opened the freezer to grab the frozen veggies, just like any normal afternoon, and resolutely did not think about pearly come all over his little brother's face.

Later that night, with lights out in the little room they shared, Dean was almost asleep when he heard a telltale snuffling and pathetic little wet sounds from the other twin bed. “Sam?” he asked pushing himself up on one elbow blearily. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sam sniffed.

Swearing to himself, Dean shoved back the covers and swung his legs out of bed. “You hurt? You sick?”

“No! No. Go back to bed, Dean.” 

“Not till you tell me what's wrong, squirt.” Dean sat down on the edge of the other bed. His brother was bony lump under the comforter and a mop of silky dark hair against the pillow. In the last 8 months he had grown with almost supernatural speed from a familiar round-faced boy into an angular, beautiful teenager whose eyes were still a little too large and childish for his newly masculine face. “Hey.” Dean modulated his voice down into a soothing rumble. “Talk to me Sammy.”

There was a short silence and then Sam mumbled, “Bet you think I'm a freak.” 

“What?” It took Dean half a dozen beats to get it. Sam was tense and silent beside him. “You mean because of today?” Dean barked a laugh. “Fuck no, Sam. It's normal to be curious.”

“Dean,” Sam squeaked. 

“Nothing wrong with making yourself feel good,” Dean continued, finding a comfortable groove. “That's what your body's for. Hell, if I was that flexible…”

“Dean!” Sam interrupted. “I like boys.”

“Uhhhh.” Dean's safe and comfortable train of thought ground to an abrupt halt. “Uh. So when you...:” He was assaulted with a sudden image of his little brother jerking off into his own mouth and imagining that it was someone else's come he was eating. 

A hot flush like a fever breaking shivered abruptly through Dean's body and his dick perked up in his boxers. 

“Not just boys,” Sam said strangled and defiant, face still turned into the pillow. “I like girls too. I just sometimes think about guys. Now do you think I'm a freak?”

“No! Uh, no. I mean I always think you're a freak, it's kinda my job as big brother.” Dean laughed awkwardly and then winced to himself at the reminder of their relationship when all he could think about was Sam's soft little boy lips wrapped around a man's cock. "But not... No Sam you're not a freak.” He swallowed, listening to Sam’s shallow, wet breathing. “You uh. You think you might want to try it with a guy someday?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam squeaked, the mortification clear in his voice. 

The thought of some stranger putting his hands on Sam made Dean’s face flush with a rush of anger. He swallowed hard, fingers clenching in the threadbare sheets. “You got to be careful, okay Sam?” he said roughly. Dean couldn't fucking believe they were talking about this. His own sex talk with Dad had consisted of  _ no means no _ and  _ always use a condom _ . Sam hadn’t gotten a sex talk so much as he’d had front row seats to Dean careening through puberty, and Dean had made sure that Sam had gotten the basics along the way, but this felt more important somehow.

“I know Dean! Last year at that school in Alabama one kid got beaten up so bad that he had to transfer schools, because everyone said he was gay. I'm not an idiot. I can take care of myself.”

“I know that.” Dean ran a hand over the cotton covered shape of Sam's back. “A couple of bullies got nothing on a werewolf. But it's not just that I’m worried about. Not just guys who’ll hit you for it, but the ones who want you the wrong way.”

“Gay men aren’t predators, Dean,” Sam snapped, pulling down the covers far enough to glare at him over the edge of the flannel. 

Dean smacked Sam’s shoulder. “I fucking know that! You think I don’t…” He broke off, drawing an unsteady breath. “Voice of experience here, kiddo.” 

“You mean you…” Sam said, voice high and uncertain. 

“Always said I’d try anything once, right?” Dean said forcing false lightness into his voice. “Anyway, believe me when I say a pretty boy like you is gonna get the wrong kind of attention…” 

“Pretty,” Sam said flatly.

“Shut up. I just mean you got to know what you want and not let anyone ask you for stuff you don't want.”

“I know what I want,” Sam said softly and it was the most sure Dean had heard him sound all evening. It startled him a little and he patted Sam's back. “Oh. Well. That's good.”

“Don’t worry. There's no one I would really feel safe doing anything with,” Sam went on, still in that low, intent tone. “You're the only person that I feel comfortable with. You know. All the time.”

Sam rolled over so that Dean’s hand on his shoulder came to rest on his chest. Through the thin cotton of his sleep shirt, Dean could feel one of Sam's little nipples pebbled up hard beneath his thumb. 

“Uh.” Dean's mind was an absolute blank, a white-water roar.

“All the guys in my grade are stupid,” Sam went on. “They make fun of each other in the locker room and talk about Pokemon cards and they don't know shit about what's really important. They think I'm just the weird new kid. None of them get it at all.”

Dean cleared his throat roughly. “Well, they're losers. You don't have to suck their dicks.” 

He felt more than heard Sam's huff of laughter, chest rising and falling under his palm. “Love you, Dean,” he said softly, and Dean's own chest seized. Sam used to say that all the time when he was a little boy; sticky fingers curled around Dean’s, tugging him down to whisper to him, Capri-Sun scented breath hot and damp against his ear. Sitting in the dark, rock hard in his shorts from hearing his little brother say the L-word, Dean felt like a monster, and also like a pathetic girl. 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Uh. You too, squirt. We good?” 

Sam pushed himself up on his elbows. Dean shifted to hide his boner, but Sam knew him better than anyone in the world and certainly knew what the awkward boner dance looked like. His eyes were glistening pools in the faint reflected light from the window. “Dean, can I?” he breathed.

Dean couldn't find a single word in response but Sam was used to getting what he wanted from his brother. Sam’s mouth still tasted a little like mint toothpaste as he kissed Dean. 

“Sam,” Dean gritted out, one hand wrapped around Sam’s arm, not sure if he was pulling him closer or pushing him away. 

“I know what I want, Dean,” Sam said. There were still the glistening tracks of tears on his cheeks but his expression was wide-open and earnest. “Please.” 

The breath Dean was holding left him in a rush, arms tightening around Sam. Sam made a wild, eager noise against his mouth and kissed him again, tugging him down so Dean was lying beside him on the bed, sheets tangled beneath them. 

Squirming onto his lap, Sam was all skinny boy hips and long, long legs, his overeager teenage boner pressed up against Dean's own through their boxers. 

Their lips made a wet sound, parting. Sam leaned back, running both hands down Dean’s chest. “God, Dean, I wanna suck your cock so bad.”

“I - wha...” Dean said, incoherent, dick throbbing. 

“Let me, let me please,” Sam babbled as he crawled down Dean’s body, tugging down his boxers. “I think about it all the time, I was thinking about it earlier, imagining it was you. Want to suck you off.”

Dean felt like he had just run 5 miles, heart pounding and throat too tight to draw breath as his hard dick slapped against his belly and his little brother’s fingers curled around it. He made a strangled sound and bit down hard on his lip to keep from coming immediately when he felt the damp gust of Sam’s breath across the leaking head, and then Sam’s lips were closing around him and Dean shoved his own forearm in his mouth to muffle a shout. 

Sam had no technique but he was so fucking eager for it, and it was so goddamn filthy to have his little brother sucking him, that Dean was already on edge. Spit was everywhere, and the sounds Sam’s mouth was making were obscene. 

Sam had one hand braced on the bed, the other fumbling around Dean’s junk like he was trying to feel everything - stroking him one moment, sliding down the next to cup his balls, just on the edge of too-rough. His fingers slipped a little further, down to the sensitive spot behind his balls, and Dean’s whole body tightened abruptly, orgasm hitting him like a brick between the eyes, stars and all. 

When he blinked his way back to consciousness, Sam was still sucking his softening cock, tender and oversensitive. Weakly, Dean pushed him away, and felt another shudder run through him as Sam licked his lips, looking up with wide eyes. 

“Do you want…?” Dean offered, when he’d gotten his breath back enough to speak. 

Sheepishly, Sam pushed himself up on his knees, and even in the darkness, Dean could see the wet spot on the front of his boxers. Dean’s dick twitched in a serious attempt to harden again at the thought of Sam coming just from sucking his cock. 

The twin bed was too small for them both but they curled up together anyway, after Sam had shucked his sticky boxers. Dean’s spine hung off the edge of the mattress and Sam was wedged between him and the wall, bony knee poking Dean in the thigh. It was sweaty where they were pressed together, and cold where the sheets wouldn’t quite cover Dean’s shoulders. It was perfect. 

Dean was almost asleep when Sam mumbled, “Will you come on my face next time?” and then laughed as Dean startled hard enough to almost tip himself out of bed.

“Bitch,” Dean mumbled, settling again. 

“Jerk,” Sam sighed happily back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!


End file.
